Just the Spare
by sakume
Summary: "It means that you are not an heir. All you are is a spare. A spare that will never be of any use to anyone." One night before a party held for one of his many brothers, Hans thinks on whether he'll really end up just a spare. One-shot, includes rewrite of deleted Frozen song "More than Just the Spare".


**Super fast one-shot for Hans. Heins/Harald are OC brothers of mine featured in my main fic, Frozen Hearts, which I'm currently on chapter three of. If you want to see more of them, keep your eye on that one! Originally I was going to just post the lyrics, but I'll set up the scene a little, too. It may be part of my main fic at one point (songless). I was listening to one of the deleted songs from the soundtrack originally meant for Anna, but it seemed to be something which could easily be twisted to be for Hans. Instead of putting himself down, like Anna does some in the song, I see Hans more comparing the good things he has to offer. Enjoy. Oh, and look up the song itself so you aren't lost. "More than Just the Spare." **

Just A Spare

"Hurry up, Heins! I want to look good for the party," Harald slid the door open and glanced inside his brother's room, stunned to see his youngest brother standing stiffly on top of a velvet footstool belonging to the armchair in the corner, his arms stretched out widely as if he were going to fly. He glanced to one of his other younger brothers, Heins, who was holding a ribbon of blue satin in one arm, a tape measure in his mouth, and a pincushion in another hand. "What are you doing?" he grumbled, pushing the door open the rest of the way with his hand to enter.

"Mmph mmhn mm phm hm!" Heins said between the lengths of the tape measure.

Harald sighed audibly. "Spit the tape measure out."

Heins cheerfully obeyed, a bright smile lighting his face.

"Now repeat."

"I said I was trying to fit him!" Heins wrapped the piece of blue satin around his youngest brother's waist, the young teenager fidgeting as he carefully tied it snug. "Stay still, Hans!"

"But it's too tight," the boy whined, smoothing out a wrinkle on the front.

"Is it? Well, let me fix it… keep holding your arms out!" Heins encouraged, giving his brother a little poke in the belly as he loosened the sash.

"Why are you wasting your time on him? You know he'll never be allowed to mingle, anyway. You should be focusing on the sons who actually have a chance of finding company at this party," Harald said, pausing as he walked to admire his reflection and the glimmer of his first medal awarded to him by his father. "Instead of little brothers who'll just ruin everything." He sniffed and gave it a little rub as if cleaning it. "If I have to have a brother who insists on fashioning clothing for a living, I at least want him to pay attention to those who deserve it," he sneered at Hans from the mirror.

"Deserve it?" Hans asked, already puckering his long nose in frustration at being called a 'little kid'. "What's that mean?"

"It _means_," exaggerated Harald, "that _you_ are not an heir. All you are is a spare. A spare that will never be of any use to anyone."

"That's not true!" Hans retorted immediately, dropping his arms and hopping off the stool. "I am _too_ an heir! Mother said so!"

Harald chuckled, straightening his medal and walking to the door, shooting a sad-looking Heins a triumphant smirk. "Thirteenth in line doesn't count. Oh, Heins? Call me when you're ready. I can wait."

The door shut tightly, leaving the two brothers alone. Hans bristled and slid the tip of his tongue out between his lips, returning to his place and frowning as he sat on the stool. He felt a gentle grip of a hand on his shoulder and looked behind him to see Heins smiling, his expression of care intimately close to Hans' mother. "Stand up… I have to finish."

"Why?" Hans pouted, crossing his arms in a huff. "Doesn't matter, anyway."

"Don't you want to prove him wrong?" Heins asked with a twinge of mischief in his tone. "If you sit still for me for just a little longer, I promise everyone will notice you tonight. Maybe even more than Harald's medal."

Hans perked up a little as the thought swam around in his head, and nodded finally, his eagerness getting the best of him. "Okay!" He obeyed, getting back on the stool and stretching his arms out. "Heins…?"

"Yes?" asked his big brother.

Hans wanted to ask the question outloud, to the big brother he knew would be honest when he answered. But he couldn't manage it, and instead just focused on staying still for the final parts of his fitting. Instead, he asked it of himself, because only he would be able to answer.

_Spare...? Am I really just the spare?_

_I'm not heir to the crown, not born to be king  
Just somebody hopelessly inbetween_

He glanced back where Harald had left, able to hear him conversing with some of his other brothers.  
_  
They're the scholars, athletes, poets  
I'm an extra, don't I know it  
But then who could ever compare?  
Of course they're gonna think I'm just the spare_

_Well I don't care…_

He looked to Heins, who was buttoning up his front coat.

_So I'm the extra button on a suit  
In case another one comes loose  
But if I have to be that button  
Why can't I be a button that's of use?_

He fingered the seemingly useless button where a pocket should have been, and it popped off, rolling along the carpet until Heins scooped it up, shooting his brother a look.

Hans flashed an innocent smile. "Oops." Sighing, Heins began to sew it back on with a practiced hand.

_I dress in style and I practice grace  
And even spare buttons have their own place  
Princes like me aren't easy to come by  
Maybe it's time I try_

"Okay, you're done!" Heins cheerfully remarked, smoothing his brothers hair one last time and helping him up. "Now remember, head up, shoulders back, don't pay attention to them, and make your entrance down those stairs to make the ladies jealous!"

Hans leapt down and out the door before Heins could think of anything else to improve on, coming to the long hall leading to the stairs, pausing to remember his brother's advice and slowing his gait, turning to look at all his brother's portraits along the wall, many fancier than the previous, until he came to his, half hidden under a suit of armor, tilted slightly off kilter.

_So I'm a crooked portrait hanging up  
Over somebody's royal hall door  
And I'll be hanging there forever  
Just wishing the castle had one throne more  
And maybe I can't be the perfect son  
And maybe I'll never be in the long run  
But I could do great things of this I swear  
Then maybe they'd see more than the spare_

Hans peeked out around the corner to see the grand ballroom full of people, too many people to focus on. The man who announced names was fidgeting with his list, crossing off and reading things. This was it. He sucked in a deep breath and walked forward.

_Someday I'll find my place  
A place that's on my own  
That place that makes me part of something  
Not just all alone  
If only all these feelings I have in my heart  
Could be revealed to someone, how I'd love to make that start_

No acclamation. No looks. No greetings. Everyone continued to chat as if things were normal, and the man waved him on, paying no attention to the youngest brother, who was far too young to find a wife at the potential soirée, much less require announcing. Hans flushed a deep red, then heard the man take a breath. Was this it? Was he finally saying-

"Prince Heins of the Southern Isles!"

His older brother came up behind him, giving a regal wave, and the women gasped at his sparkling green collar outlined in gold threading, the purple buttons lining his soft blue undershirt shimmering under the chandelier light. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and smiled as his brother took a breath and shouted, gesturing to him.

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles!"

Few people glanced up, but his mother was among them, and she smiled in his direction, easing the heat in his neck. Harald grinned as he flashed him a mock salute, going back to the girl all in pink leaning on his every word.

_So I'm just the thirteenth born brother  
Who most other people ignore,  
Like a button, like a portrait,  
Like a person slamming shut a door,_

"Maybe not tonight," Heins whispered under his breath as he squeezed his brother's shoulder. "But one day… one day they'll call your name… and everyone will look at you."

Hans managed a shaky smile and slid away from his brother, looking at the rest of his family with despair. From deep within the stirring became an urge. Yes, he would prove them wrong. He would be somebody someday, somebody so great, no one would forget his name.

_And maybe they don't think I mean much now,  
But I can do great things, I'll show them all how,  
I know my destiny has to be somewhere  
So I'll never be the heir, but I'm more than just a spare_


End file.
